The Hollows Of Hiraeth (✔️) | 'Hollows' Book I

Chapter Forty-Six

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T h e H o l l o w s   O f
H I R A E    T    H
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Jameson grinned at me as he helped me hop off the motorbike. But, of course, I made it awkward and stumbled. Jameson, unsurprisingly, caught me, and I gazed up to him to say thank you, but then I paused. His eyes told me it all—he was happy, I could tell, and that part of me that is very egoistic felt proud that it was influenced by me.

Then, there was the alarm. I jumped back in shock, still not used to the agonisingly persistent sound that is Jameson's night shift alarm. Jameson gave me a saddened expression and I watched as that happiness faded from his eyes, making them look jaded. I sighed and took a few steps back, watching as Jameson turned off the alarm and then went to take the bike back.

He was back in less than a second, of course, and we silently left the garage where I had decided that motorbikes aren't really the devils work.

"Come back soon, James!" Jack yelled from the garage and I raised my eyebrow at the nickname; I'd never heard anyone call Jameson that before.

"And bring your gorgeous girlfriend back too!" He next shouted and I nearly tripped over my feet with embarrassment. I was humbled, really, but there was no need to shout it out for the whole world to hear. Jameson muttered something under his breath as I gave Jack an awkward wave.

"James, huh?" I mentioned the nickname and Jameson turned to smile at me.

"A few friends call me it." He shrugged as if it wasn't important news, whilst for me, it was the biggest gossip going around.

"So, can I call you James?" I asked and Jameson gave me the same smile as before. Adoration—a tiny voice in my head blurted out, but I most definitely ignored it.

Jameson shook his head, "I like it when you call me Jameson," He told me and I quirked up an eyebrow, "Even though I hate the name."

"Wait, you hate the name but you like when I say it?" I laughed, "How on earth does that work out?" I asked him as we crossed the same gravel path as before, our shoes crunching along.

Jameson shrugged again, only responding with a smile this time, different to the last though—more humoured, I thought.

We soon made it to the entrance to our wing in the school building and I grimaced at the thought of leaving Jameson and being all on my own; it'd definitely feel weird.

Jameson stopped and looked down at me with a rueful smile on his lips. "You'll be okay," He reassured me, somehow noticing my hesitation.

I waved it off easily, "Will you be?" I asked in response but Jameson's smile only grew.

"Tell me," He started and I frowned in confusion, "If we both got shot, right now, but you only got hit in the arm, who would you check on first: yourself, or me?" He asked me and I stood still for a few seconds, wondering if Jameson was being serious. When I discovered he was, I let my eyes wander, trying to visualise the scene happening right now.

Then, without much further thought, I gave him my answer, "I would check on you, I was only shot in the arm but your injury could be fatal." I told him, meeting his gaze. There it was—adoration. It has to be. Or I'm just delusional. Probably the latter.

"You'd be a good guardian." Jameson told me with a bittersweet expression on his face. His response was coming from two angles—he was feeling concerned that I'd actually put my life before his, even though he is my guardian, but I can sense that he's also proud of my answer.